A winter storm of epic proportions hovered nearby on a direct trajectory for our mountains. For days meteorologists predicted its arrival with alarming warnings of 60 – 70mph winds and snowdrifts on top of an icy foundation.
It was a bit frightening.
The gale force winds were to arrive on Saturday night, ushering in arctic air, buckets of snow, and ice. We hunkered down and waited.
And waited.
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Father, I want to run into Your arms leaping and laughing as You lift me up and carry me for awhile. I’m tired, Lord. So tired. But yet You bathe me in Your grace to accomplish what is before me. Thank You. Thank You for Your abiding presence.
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I pulled the collar of my jacket a little tighter and steered Blue onward. Sometimes a pilgrim just has to press in, keep one foot stepping in front of the other, and move forward. Even when it’s difficult. Even when the wind from an impending storm is smacking you in the face.
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Father, Your love amazes me. Even when I fail You, You never fail me because of Your great love....
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High above the country road where branches spread bare and sky peeks through, a gathering of twigs, moss, and leaves cluster together to form a nest — a home. A dwelling place. The branches cup together like fingertips forming a hollow space to support the tiny chamber.
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